Was I Possessed? (One-Shot)
by LadyClassical
Summary: Over Christmas Break, Harry hears that he is possessed and wrongly infers that he is the Secret Weapon, so he goes to his godfather for help. Harry learns the true nature of the Prophecy, but ends up receiving some important advice about life as well, and maybe in the end, he can help heal Sirius's wounds too. Basically a nice godfather/godson bonding conversation. :) One-shot.


**PLEASE NOTE: This is a sort of missing-moment thing where Harry tells Sirius how he thinks he's being possessed, instead of Hermione and the others. In the book Sirius entered Buckbeak's room right after Harry left anyway, so here's what might have happened if they hadn't just missed each other.**

…

 _#12 Grimmauld Place, London_

 _December 1995_

Harry Potter was sitting—or, more accurately, hiding—all the way up in Buckbeak the hippogriff's room, every so often tossing him dead rats. Ever since he had heard the news that he was possessed, and thus inferred that he was the weapon, he had felt strangely detached from everyone else in the house. Even Sirius seemed to be happy, at least happier than he had been last summer:

" _God rest ye merry hippogriffs, let nothing you dismay…remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day…"_

In fact, Harry didn't notice the voice getting closer until _bang_ , the door to Buckbeak's room flew open, and there was Sirius, holding a bloodstained bag of dead rats. Harry looked up; Sirius's eyebrows were raised in surprise.

"Harry?" he said.

"Oh…hi, Sirius." Harry didn't look up, but Buckbeak let out a loud squawk and rushed towards Sirius, who stroked his feathered friend's neck.

"I was going to feed him, but I guess you beat me to it," said Sirius awkwardly, then he added, "Where've you been? Nobody's seen you since you all got home from St. Mungo's—and it's almost dinnertime."

"Well, I'm not hungry," said Harry. This was a lie—he was so hungry by now that even Buckbeak's rats were starting to look appetizing. But there was no way he was going to go downstairs. By now his friends knew all about his "problem", and the Order members had probably known from the beginning. Yet none of them had ever told him.

"Are you all right?" Sirius asked, sliding down to sit next to Harry. Not even _Sirius_ had told him the truth.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry blurted out.

"Tell you what?" Sirius looked confused.

"You know what!" said Harry. "You couldn't have told me what the secret weapon was? You're supposed to be my godfather!"

"How did you find out?" Sirius demanded in a whisper.

"I—um, overheard Moody saying it at the hospital," said Harry. "They sent us out of the room and, well…"

"Remus told me about those Extendable Ears," said Sirius with the ghost of a grin.

"Don't get angry, Sirius," Harry pleaded, thinking Sirius wouldn't be very proud of him for eavesdropping. "It's just…well, we were curious, and we didn't know what else to—"

"Sometimes, I think, we adults forget what it's like to be your age," said Sirius, leaning his head on his knees. "But we're not the only ones with troubles, are we?"

Harry remembered what Phineas Nigellus had said earlier: _Like all young people, you are quite sure that you alone feel and think, you alone recognize danger, you alone are the only one clever enough to realize what the Dark Lord may be planning…_

"I don't understand," said Harry quietly.

"Well…that's not how I would have wanted you to find out what the weapon is," Sirius explained, "but you don't have any _other_ way of finding out, do you? So eavesdropping it is. Maybe Dumbledore doesn't realize it, but I'm very well aware that if we don't tell you what's going on, you're going to do everything in your power to find out for yourself."

Harry stared over at Sirius.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm sorry."

"No, _I'm_ sorry," said Sirius. "I-I should have told you."

"But I know you weren't supposed to," Harry pointed out, remembering the fight between Mrs. Weasley and Sirius the night he had arrived.

"I could have told you anyway." Sirius shrugged. "I always thought it was pointless to hide it from you. But I did…and now…"

"But, Sirius…" Harry frowned. "I don't get it. Why did Dumbledore want to hide this from me? Did he think I wouldn't be able to handle it? When I've handled so much before in the past?"

"Harry, I don't know." Sirius sighed. "One can only assume so."

"Well, he's wrong," Harry said fiercely. "I can so handle it! I might not _like_ being possessed, but—"

"Excuse me?!" barked Sirius. "You might not what?!"

"Well…that's how Voldemort is going to use _me_ as his secret weapon," Harry explained, surprised at Sirius's reaction. "Because he's possessing me. You know."

"No, I don't know!" yelled Sirius. "Let me get this straight—in the hospital, you heard Moody say that _you_ were the weapon because _you_ were being possessed and _you_ were the one who did this to Arthur?"

"Yes," said Harry in a small voice.

"Look, I know he's a little senile and all, but come on!" Sirius said exasperatedly.

"I figured…since he used to be an Auror, he would know," Harry explained helplessly.

"Harry, I need you to tell me _exactly_ what Moody said, all right?" Sirius said carefully. "Tell me what the others said too."

It wasn't fun, but Harry began to reiterate the whole conversation as he and the others had heard it outside Mr. Weasley's ward. When he apologized again for eavesdropping Sirius waved it away and bade him continue.

"And then Moody said 'there's—there's something _funny_ about the Potter kid'…" Harry's voice cracked here and he couldn't say anything more.

"Then what happened?" Sirius prompted gently.

"Mrs. Weasley said Dumbledore seemed worried about me…" Harry swallowed. "And that's when Moody told her he thought I was being possessed. So I pulled the Extendable Ear out of my own and everybody was just giving me this horrified expression—"

"But when did Moody say you were the weapon?" Sirius asked, frowning.

Harry thought back. Truth be told, going over the scene again in his head, he couldn't remember Moody actually saying that he, Harry, was the weapon.

"Well, okay, he didn't," said Harry, "but I'm not as stupid as you all think! I figured it out! Voldemort is using _me_ as the weapon by possessing me, and that's why you're all tailing me, just to make sure I don't get away and nearly kill someone, only I already have, and nobody wants to look at me or be in the room with me anymore, because they know I'll kill them—"

"Harry, stop!"

Harry's voice had been rising steadily in pitch as he explained everything he had been thinking, and he felt lightheaded when his godfather suddenly cut him off. "If you hear something like that, you have to go straight to me! You can't just guess!"

"I didn't want to talk to anybody," Harry confessed. "I-I feel so filthy. It's like I'm carrying some kind of deadly disease. I thought you wouldn't want to be around me."

"Well, for one thing, if you _were_ possessed, I would have known about it from the beginning, wouldn't I? So why would my attitude about it just randomly change?" said Sirius, then he pulled Harry into a hug. "And for another…you should know this by now. I love you no matter what."

"Even if I'm possessed?"

"Even if you're possessed," said Sirius, "which you're not, by the way…Hasn't Dumbledore mentioned before that you're connected to Voldemort through that scar? That's how you witnessed the snake attack. You were seeing what he was seeing."

"No, I was seeing what the snake was seeing," Harry reminded him.

"Voldemort's got a funny connection with that snake," Sirius said shrewdly. "Sort of like the one Filch has with Mrs. Norris. Of course he can see through his snake's eyes, which is why you can see through the snake's eyes too."

"How do you know about Mrs. Norris?" asked Harry. "She was after your time."

"Sure, but I snuck into the castle during your third year, remember?" said Sirius. "They're definitely magically bonded. I could tell even when I wasn't in my Animagus mode. I have…I have a connection with animals most humans don't, even before I became an Animagus. Even as a child. It was easy to get them to follow me or do what I wanted. The only ones I can't really make a connection with are Dark creatures…go figure.

"Anyway, you also have to remember," Sirius pointed out, "you fell asleep in your dorm, didn't you? And then you woke up again, in the same place? How could you have gotten to London and back, and so quickly?"

"Voldemort's one of the most powerful wizards of our age," said Harry. "It was probably easy."

"You forget who you're talking to." Harry looked up at Sirius, who was grinning now. "I know more about sneaking in and out of the castle than _anyone_ , remember? I know all about the enchantments and blockages put on the castle to make sure stuff like that can't happen. You think you can just Apparate or Disapparate? James and I have tried it! It's impossible. You still feel that weird warping sensation—so you know you did it right—but you don't go anywhere. You can't even Apparate across the room, much less all the way to London."

"Why would you try to Apparate across the room?" said Harry.

"Just for the hell of it, that's why," Sirius replied. "You're not the weapon, Harry, and you know what? If Dumbledore didn't want me to tell you, he shouldn't have told me in the first place. I think you're ready to know, so screw it. It's not you, it's a prophecy."

"It's…it's a what?"

"I don't know everything about it, as of course it is a _secret_ weapon," Sirius began delicately, "but you see…I do know that a prophecy was made about you and Voldemort, and apparently it contains the knowledge of—oh, I hate to be the one to tell you this—how to destroy you."

" _That's_ what Mr. Weasley was guarding?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Yes," said Sirius. "All recorded prophecies are kept in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic, and that's where he was."

"I remember Moody said he thought Voldemort sent Nagini as a lookout," Harry recalled. "That she would have had more time to look around if Mr. Weasley hadn't been there."

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."

"What does the prophecy say, though, Sirius?" Harry asked.

"I honestly don't know," Sirius told him apologetically. "It's only Dumbledore who knows, I believe. But what we've learned since is that when Voldemort tried to kill you as a baby, it was because he thought he was fulfilling the prophecy. He didn't expect the Killing Curse to backfire."

"Why did it backfire?"

"This one was news to me, too." Sirius bit his lip. "Apparently…well, you know Lily gave her life so you could live, right? Well, apparently that gave you a sort of protection from harm. I didn't know this at the end of your third year, when I asked you if you wanted to come live with me. But apparently Lily's sister needed to be your legal guardian in order for it to work."

"I thought _you_ were my legal guardian," Harry told him.

"I've got your power-of-attorney," Sirius explained, "and I'm your legal guardian in the Wizarding world. But I don't have custody. And legal custody is what is needed in order for the blood wards to work."

"Oh, I see," said Harry. "That's why I have to return to the Muggles every summer?"

"I'm afraid so," Sirius told him. "But only for a little bit. Then you can come live with the rest of us."

"But still, there's another thing," Harry continued, still feeling worried. "If I'm not being possessed, then why…why…"

"Why what?"

"Well…why do I act the way I do?"

"Beg pardon?" said Sirius, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean to say…I act like a right git sometimes," Harry admitted, and it was a strange feeling—he felt guilty about this fact, and yet it felt good to say it to someone. "Not just to kids at school who annoy me or teachers or anything either. To my friends, too. I get angry so easily and I don't know why. If I'm not being possessed by someone evil, why am I like that to everyone—even Ron and Hermione?"

"The reason you feel that way, Harry," said Sirius, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, "is because last June you were forced to experience something horrible. It's okay if you're still a little shaken up."

"You—you think so?" Harry stared up at him, shocked.

"Of course," Sirius replied evenly. "I'm not saying you should be taking things out on your friends, but…well, don't assume that you're being possessed by a Dark wizard simply because you're feeling a normal human emotion. _Or_ a whole host of them."

"But it's _not_ normal!" Harry insisted desperately. "It's not me! I-I assumed Voldemort was in control of my emotions because…well, because _I'm_ certainly not! Why am I having a go at everyone I meet for the slightest thing, whether they deserve it or not? I even went to pieces over Ron's stupid prefect badge last summer! What the hell was that? What's going on with me? What's wrong?"

Harry couldn't talk anymore; the lump in his throat was too painful. Instead he just sat there, blinking furiously.

"Hey. C'mere." Sirius reached over and scooped Harry into a hug. It was a nice gesture, yet it made it even harder to keep balancing on the precipice of crying, which was usually something Harry avoided at all costs. "Nothing is _wrong_ with you, Harry. Last year was rough, and this one's been even worse. But no matter what happens, I'll be right here."

"I-I just feel terrible." Harry wiped his eyes with the tissue Sirius had handed him. "Even Ron and Hermione said they wished I would stop taking my temper out on them. And that just makes me feel even worse."

"You're not just angry; you're probably upset, scared, confused and stressed out too," said Sirius, passing Harry the whole box of tissues, which he had conjured out of thin air. "There's nothing wrong with that. The problem here is not that you _have_ these tangled feelings. It's that you don't understand them. And until you do, you can't really deal with them properly."

"But—but I don't know what there is to understand," Harry sniffed, wiping his eyes and nose, trying hard to swallow, but he couldn't.

"You're having a rough year," Sirius repeated firmly. "The people at the Ministry and at the Daily Prophet are trying to make out you're either a nasty little liar or just not in your right mind, your OWLs are coming, loads of things you enjoy at school have been taken away, not even the people who are supposed to be your allies are telling you anything, instead they're talking about you behind your back—I would hate that if it were me."

"I…I hate it, too," said Harry and (ashamed though he was) he finally dissolved into tears. Crying was the most mortifying thing he could ever do. Was this how Cho had felt, crying in front of Harry last term? Had she felt like just as much of a baby as he did now?

But all of what Sirius had said was true, and more—Harry still felt horrible for the way he treated his friends, and could Sirius be right that underneath this anger, he was feeling a lot more, even if he hadn't known it? But he didn't even know what he was feeling _now_ , besides the fact that he was approaching an awful paradox. Crying was the last thing he wanted to be doing, and yet he wanted to keep doing it, now that he had started. It felt humiliating, but it didn't feel bad. All Harry could do was blurt out a very watery apology.

"Don't be sorry," Sirius told him. "Just…just get all the bad stuff out, okay?"

Harry seemed to cry for ages, his face buried in Sirius's robes, Sirius's arms around him; he hadn't cried this much in years, and it felt like it was all coming out at once. But talking to Sirius wasn't quite like talking to anyone else. He wasn't a teenager like Harry, but he wasn't exactly like any other adult either.

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry said finally, shakily, blowing his nose.

"You're welcome," said Sirius, his arm around Harry. "Feel better now?"

"Yeah, a little." Harry took a deep breath.

"Better out than in, I say," Sirius replied. "When was the last time you talked to anyone about how you felt?"

"Well, I…I don't usually like to talk about how I feel," Harry admitted.

"Ron and Hermione are your friends, though," Sirius reminded him. "If you just explain to them that you're stressed, you're upset, you've been better—yes? I'm sure they'll understand. And don't you feel better now you've talked this through with me?"

"Yeah, but you're different," said Harry. "It's like…you aren't a teenager anymore, but you haven't forgotten what it's like to be one. Most adults act like they were born as adults. You can't connect with them."

"Most adults have forgotten, it's true," said Sirius. "I figured one of the reasons you were so angry is because people weren't treating the way you feel as legitimate. They'll typically trivialize your feelings because they think you're just a child."

"They do that," Harry agreed. "I don't get it."

"Neither do I," said Sirius. "But you're more normal than you think you are—unless you've got some sort of issue in particular, I guess."

"Actually, I kind of do," said Harry. "I wanted to ask you something, until the snake incident drove it out of my mind…There's this girl—Cho—and I've been in love with her since third year, but I don't know if she likes me, and I don't really know how to ask her."

"Well, there is one way to ask her, and it doesn't require any words at all," said Sirius, grinning.

"I know what you're thinking, and she _already_ kissed me," said Harry gloomily. "There was mistletoe at the meeting in the Room of Requirement, and she pointed it out, but I said it was full of nargles."

"She approached you under the mistletoe and you told her it was infested?" said Sirius. "You were in the Room of Requirement. That mistletoe was no accident."

"Okay, well, I didn't think of that," said Harry angrily.

"Whatever, you said this girl kissed you," Sirius reminded him. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"It's complicated," Harry told him. "You see…she was crying."

Sirius raised his eyebrows.

"She's Cedric Diggory's old girlfriend, okay?"

The grin faded from Sirius's face. "Well…that does make it more complicated."

"What do you think, Sirius?" said Harry. "What do I do now?"

"You'd have to tell me a bit more," Sirius replied. "What did she say before the two of you kissed?"

Harry immediately told Sirius the whole sordid story, ending with the kiss that paralyzed his body and Hermione's analysis, which was evidently supposed to be helpful, but just made things more confusing than ever, and what Hermione had said about Cho spending half her life crying nowadays…

"So I was just hoping you could tell me what was going on so I could understand it," Harry finished. "I figured you wouldn't be confusing like Hermione was."

Sirius was silent for a moment; then, with a sigh, he spoke.

"Harry," he asked, "the last time I saw your father alive, do you think I was expecting to find him dead the next time we met?"

"Well—no, of course not," said Harry, taken aback by this question.

"Right," said Sirius. "In fact, I was next expecting to see your parents on my birthday, November 3. We were going to go for drinks in the Hog's Head Inn. But obviously, we didn't. Next time I saw James, he was dead. Just think about that. I never got to say goodbye; I never got to tell him how much he meant to me; I don't know if he and Lily would have survived if I had been there to help, and I will never know. Every day, every hour I live with these regrets, of my terrible mistakes. I carry them with me wherever I go.

"The point is," Sirius continued, "I know what it feels like to lose someone important. I know what it feels like to lose your other half. And losing someone you care about that much is not something you come to terms with easily. Sometimes that pain never goes away. When someone you love dies, it feels as if part of your soul has been ripped out. Do you get what I'm saying here?"

"Not really," said Harry helplessly. Sirius sighed again and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I don't know for sure, mate, but I'm guessing that this Cho girl feels quite similar to the way I felt when your parents died," he said gently. "She probably feels like a part of her died with him. What she needs is time, not romance. She doesn't need a boyfriend or a lover right now. She needs a friend."

"But—but she's got friends already," Harry said, as Sirius's advice started to sink in. "Loads of them!"

"Don't you want to be the one she goes to when she needs a shoulder to cry on?" Sirius said back.

"Well…I don't know," said Harry in a small voice. "I never know what to say."

"You don't _need_ to say anything," Sirius told him. "It's time for her to do the talking, and for you to do the listening. She's obviously not over Diggory yet—that's okay, and it's to be expected. If you want my advice, just cool it on the romance."

"So what am I supposed to do if she tries to kiss me again?" said Harry hoarsely. "Just push her away?!"

"What kind of kiss are you talking about?" Sirius replied. "One where she cries again, and you feel all awkward? Or one where it just feels right, it feels okay—and you both want more?"

"Sirius, I really, really like her," Harry said desperately.

"I _know_ you do, mate," said Sirius, "but she needs to come to terms with Diggory's death, and so do you. If a codependent relationship has _ever_ worked out, my name's mud. When you've just left a serious relationship and you're not over that person, the worst thing you can possibly do is try to get into a new relationship."

"So you're saying I can't hang out with Cho?!"

"I'm not saying you can or can't do anything," said Sirius, "and you don't have to stop hanging out with this girl. Just keep in mind what I said, that's all. She needs you to be there for her. If she starts crying in public and you're sitting across from her—like at a restaurant or something—just go around and sit next to her. Hold her until she stops crying. These might seem trivial to you, but to a girl they can make a monumental difference. If you two are really meant to be together, it'll happen. Just not now. I know it's hard, but my advice is to wait."

"Yeah…" said Harry. "I guess I can do that. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sirius replied. "You know I just want the best for you."

Harry smiled and leaned against Sirius; with shock, he realized that his godfather was still very thin, hardly any heavier than he had been upon escape from Azkaban. It wasn't easy to gauge just by looking, as he wore quite loose wizard's robes.

"Hmm…aren't you supposed to be _gaining_ weight?" Harry said. "I know you didn't have a lot of food last year in the cave, but now that you're in a house…"

"Thanks to you, I ended up getting a good amount of food," said Sirius, smiling. "I've actually lost some weight since I arrived here. But I expect I'll gain some over the holidays; everyone does."

"Why have you lost weight?"

"Haven't had much of an appetite, really," Sirius replied. His tone was light, conversational; but his eyes were on the door, and Harry had the strangest feeling that his thoughts were somewhere else.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked tentatively.

"It's just…I know there are no dementors here," Sirius said slowly. "But it feels like there are, outside my door day and night, all over the place, like in Azkaban. Not the cold—but that feeling they give you…"

"Like you'll never be cheerful again?" Harry supplied. He didn't know why, but Sirius's words gave him a bad feeling, one he couldn't put into words; an unpleasant memory sprung to his mind—Sirius, the way he had looked the night they arrived at his house. Unshaven, still dressed, reeking of alcohol, a half-eaten, one-person meal alone on the table…

"Yes. Exactly." Sirius was still staring at the door dismally. "This must be how dementors are for Muggles. They can't see them, but they can feel them."

"But you seemed so happy," said Harry, his mouth dry. "You were singing carols in the hallways."

"I'm happy to have you all here." Sirius looked around at Harry. "But not…not really happy in general, I guess." For a second he paused, then continued gloomily, "I don't need the dementors' Dark powers to make me relive my worst memories, not when I'm locked up someplace where so many of them happened. Not just the big blowout fights my mother and I had when I was a teenager, but back when I was very small and she used to hit me…and I had to watch them perform Dark Magic all the time…It all used to frighten me so much. Like the rope that strangled anyone who wasn't a pureblood and the animal sacrifices and all. Being back here…it gives me the same hopeless, unwanted, trapped feeling I had as a child. It's—it's like a recurring nightmare. Then I start thinking of the day I found your parents dead, and Azkaban…" Sirius buried his face in his hands. "I can't take it any longer. I would do anything to get out of here. Anything to make this pain stop."

"But the Order," Harry insisted, making a mental note to tell one of the Weasleys to get rid of the non-pureblood strangling rope. "They want you here—"

"Don't lie to me," said Sirius, his hands shaking. "They want me about as much as they want dry rot. I'm nothing but a burden to everyone."

"No, Sirius, don't say that," Harry insisted, pulling on his godfather's sleeve. "It's not true."

"It is true!" Sirius took his face out of his hands and glared at the door again, as if a dementor or perhaps his shrieking mother would burst through it at any moment. "Who would even miss me if I was gone?"

"I would," Harry pleaded. "Sirius, listen—you're all I've got left of my dad. I remember thinking, at the end of third year, when you offered me a home, I thought…this will almost be like having my father back. My father's best friend."

"Oh, Harry, mate," said Sirius, and hugged his godson tight. "That's kind of you. That's really kind of you. But when I can't do anything useful for the Order…"

"In some ways, you've done much more for me than Dumbledore ever has," Harry continued.

"For all his faults, Harry, Dumbledore is certainly—"

"Has he ever told me he'd love me even if I was possessed by a Dark wizard?" Harry interrupted. "For the past year, he's barely said anything to me at all! I always feel safer when you're around, and I know that nobody loves me more than you do. Breaking out of prison was risky and dangerous, but you did it, not just to avenge my parents but to protect me, too. If you hadn't revealed Pettigrew, he might have killed me in my sleep someday! I don't just need someone to teach me jinxes. I need someone to teach me about love and life and sex and girls…Someone who will protect me when I need it…Someone who will always love me, no matter what. Dumbledore was a good teacher, and he got me out of some tight spots—but he could never…he was never like a _father_ to me."

"Nobody could _ever_ replace James, Harry," Sirius said. "And I'm not a good example. Terrible warning, more like."

"But my dad made you my godfather, so he must have thought that if something happened to him and my mother, you would be the best person to look after me," Harry pointed out. "You aren't going to let him down, are you?"

"Oh—of course not…I'll do my best to protect you." Sirius covered his face with his hands again. "Yes, it's what James would have wanted…but it's not just for him, Harry. I've always cared for you."

"Well, I've grown to care for you too." Harry smiled and took Sirius's hands off his face. "Besides Ron and Hermione, you're the person I care about most in the world. My dad would be really proud of you and all you've done for me. I know he would."

"I reckon he'd be really proud of you, too," said Sirius gently, returning the smile. "Listen, this has been bugging me for ages…I'm afraid I won't get a chance to say it…"

"What?"

"I'm sorry for telling you that you were less like your father than I thought," said Sirius. "It was uncalled for."

"Don't worry. I was never angry," said Harry, standing up and pulling Sirius up with him. "I know you didn't mean it. Do you want to come down to dinner? I'm sure they're wondering where we are."

"Yeah, I could go for some dinner," Sirius said, putting his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Thank you, Harry."

-the end-


End file.
